Humans Are Brave: We Know We’re Going to Die

Humans are strange creatures.

We build cities, fall in love, raise children, write songs, chase dreams, complain about the weather, and worry about things that probably won’t matter five years from now.

And through all of it, somewhere in the back of our minds, we know how the story ends.

We are going to die.

That may be one of the things that makes human beings so brave.

Animals understand danger. A deer runs from a mountain lion. A bird escapes a hawk. A dog knows when something threatens it. Animals have powerful survival instincts.

But humans understand something larger. Death isn’t only a danger that might happen today. It is eventually coming no matter how carefully we live.

Yet tomorrow morning, we get up anyway.

KNOWING CHANGES EVERYTHING

Once you’re old enough to understand death, life becomes a strange bargain.

You know your parents won’t always be here. Your friends won’t always be here. You won’t always be here.

Still, you love people.

That’s brave.

Love guarantees that eventually somebody loses somebody.

Still, we keep loving.

We have children knowing we can’t protect them forever. We plant trees whose shade we may never sit beneath. We build things that might outlive us. We write songs that somebody might hear long after we’re gone.

Maybe courage isn’t believing you’re going to live forever.

Maybe courage is knowing you won’t and living anyway.

WE SPEND OUR LIVES FIGHTING THE CLOCK

Human beings have invented countless ways of dealing with mortality.

Religion offers eternity.

Science searches for longer life.

Artists create something that might survive them.

Parents see themselves continuing through their children.

Some people simply decide to enjoy whatever time they have.

Different answers, same question:

What do I do with this little piece of time I’ve been given?

Nobody knows exactly how much time is left.

That’s the uncomfortable part.

But it’s also what gives life urgency.

If we lived forever, there would always be tomorrow. You could write the song next century. Tell somebody you love them in another hundred years. Take the trip someday.

Death puts a deadline on “someday.”

MAYBE THAT’S WHY WE CREATE

A song is a strange act of defiance.

The songwriter knows his own voice will eventually go silent, so he puts something into the world that can keep speaking.

The painter does the same thing.

So does the novelist.

So does the old man telling his grandson a story he hopes the boy remembers.

We’re constantly leaving little pieces of ourselves behind.

Maybe that’s one reason humans create art in the first place.

We’re temporary creatures making things and saying:

I was here. I saw something. I felt something. And before I left, I wanted to tell you about it.

THE COURAGE OF AN ORDINARY DAY

We usually think bravery means running into a burning building, going into battle, or facing some enormous danger.

Those things certainly require courage.

But there is another kind of bravery that doesn’t get medals.

Getting older and still making plans.

Losing somebody and loving again.

Knowing your time is limited and starting another project.

Getting disappointed and trying again.

Planting tomatoes in spring.

Buying concert tickets for next year.

Writing another song.

Laughing when you know perfectly well none of us gets out alive.

Human beings know death is somewhere down the road.

And still we dance.

Still we joke.

Still we fall in love.

Still we argue about stupid things.

Still we make plans.

Still we create.

Still we wake up tomorrow and give life another shot.

Maybe humans aren’t brave because we don’t fear death.

Maybe we’re brave because we understand it — and keep living anyway.